- ness in persuading William to bestow the picture upon
herself. It was for the Sawney's own sake, that at least was how she chose to view the transaction now. But a sense of vague triumph was dashed by the thought lurking at the back of her mind. Uncle Si was bound to get the picture from the feckless William somehow; indeed the young man, being as clay in the hands of his master, she was soon besieged with a fear that he had parted with it already.
The slow passing of the tardy minutes gave form and pressure to this spectre. With an excitement that grew and grew she listened intently for William ascending to the room next door. Soon or late she would hear his feet on the carpetless stairs; but to one burning with impatience it seemed that an age had to pass.
At last came the sounds for which she was so expectantly listening. The door of the next room was softly closed. What had happened? Was the picture still in his keeping? To lie all night with that question unanswered was more than she could bear. Suddenly she jumped out of bed, flung a macintosh over her white nightdress, so that the proprieties might be observed, thrust her feet into slippers and then knocked upon William's door.
It was opened at once.
"Why, Miss June!" Astonishment was in the tone. "Are you ill?"
"The picture?" said June, in quick whisper, so that Uncle Si should not hear. "You haven't left it downstairs, I hope?"
Laughing gently, William half turned from the threshold and pointed to a small table in the middle of
